Differing Divergence
by DifferingDivergence
Summary: In a universe where the attack on Abnegation never happened. A universe where Four is still Four, and Tris is now Six. The two reign at Dauntless watching the world slowly crumble. Something's brewing. Something's coming. Connor Hedly, an Amity turned Dauntless, suspects as much. Connor wants answers, and maybe Four and Six really know what's really going on


Really old update of a fic I posted years ago. I wanted to continue it again. Please leave reviews if you do read. I really appreciate it.

I sit at a table with my group of Amity friends. Usually I'm upbeat as ever, but not today. Today is Choosing Day. The day you can keep everything you have, or throw it all away for something new. I don't know why I'm nervous; I belong in Amity. I tell myself that almost everyday. But I don't even believe myself, since slivers of doubt creep into my mind every so often. I sometimes grow annoyed with all the happy, bubbly personalities that surround me. I silently scold myself for thinking such thoughts. It's not Amity like. It's not what I was raised on.

How can I think such things about my fellow brothers and sisters? I have to choose Amity, what other choice is there?

"No fair!" someone yells behind me in a husky voice; snapping my attention back to reality.

I turn around, seeing a tall dark boy dressed in black clothing. _Dauntless,_ I think. The infamous factions, and above all, the cruelest. The one faction that continues to haunt my dreams and nightmares. I can't be drawn to them. To destruction and violence. But there is a small voice that tickles my mind. It's of temptation. It's of a change that can shatter my being. It's of being a Dauntless initiate.

For awhile now, they have roamed around in my head. Part of me considers joining their faction, despite the ludicrous feeling of it. But such silly thoughts should not occupy my mind. Should they? Amity is all about peace, keeping peace, spreading peace. To even consider joining Dauntless is preposterous. What would my mother and father say if they were to know that I chose a group of hellions to guide me through my future? I don't think they would even be able to say anything at all. Would I even be their son after I chose Dauntless? I push these thoughts aside, I have to concentrate on the test. I have to be focused. I cannot let these doubts distract my mind.

"Connor Hedly," a voice bellows behind me. It's time for testing.

My friends smile at me as I get up, a sign of reassurance, a sign of comfort. I smile back, trying to reassure them that the test will be a breeze for me.

"Good luck Conair!"

"You'll do great!"

"See you later."

 _See you later._ The words repeat in my head as I follow the woman who called my name. I would say the same thing if I was bidding goodbye to someone off to take the test. It's only logical, but I myself don't even know if I'll be back. Will I be back? Only the test will tell me. My test will decide my fate.

"This way, please." A woman with dark skin and gray clothes says, ushering me to door number three.

She opens the door and the cool air grazes my skin as I walk in with her. The room is full of mirrors. I bother to look at one of them that reflects my image all over the room. My short brown hair is combed to the side and a red shirt hugs my body. I am the spitting image of a perfect Amity boy. The one my mother and father expect me to be.

For a second, I imagine myself dressing like a Dauntless. I would have piercings as far as the eye can see, be dressed in dark clothes that briefly highlight my personality. Dangerous, fierce, Dauntless. I shove the thought away. I can't let temptations cloud my judgment.

"Please sit here." The woman address the chair that sits in the middle of the room.

Next to it stands a machine that looks complete with gadgets and buttons that I wouldn't know or fathom what to do with. I walk over and sit in the chair, the coldness touching my arm and making me shiver.

"What does that machine do?" I ask.

The women gives me a smile as she busies herself with the complex machinery. She holds wires in her hands and attaches some to herself and some to the machine.

"I'm sorry, but I can't reveal that information. It would assist you on your test." She says. By her grey clothes and hairstyle, it is easy to tell that she is Abnegation. I always wonder how it was to be Abnegation. To forget yourself and care for people so dearly. To put your entire being into a selfless act. How long could I keep that up? _Not very long._

"Why did you chose Abnegation?" I ask, feeling her begin attach wires on my arm.

"I wanted to better other people's lives, I felt that if I could do something to better this society, to better other people, to make a change; even if a small one, I was doing good. I was helping those who needed help, those who could not help themselves. I felt that I belonged in Abnegation, so I transferred from my old faction to this one." The woman says with a sincere smile.

Before I can ask anymore about her, she holds out a vial of clear liquid.

"Please drink this," she says calmly.

"What is that for?" I ask.

"I'm sorry, but I can't tell you."

Without a word, I grab the vial, the clear liquid sloshing slightly. She gives me a patient smile and with some hesitation, I dip it into my lips.

In a flash, I am standing on bus, clutching a pole to keep myself steady. The faint stench of cigarettes fills my nose. It comes off from the man next to me. I don't remember the reason why I'm on the bus or how I got on. There is only one feeling I feel; it's the nagging feeling of fear of the man next to me. Like something bad is going to happen. I know it, it's like an instinct tuning around my head.

He sits, reading a newspaper, on the front of it says "Brutal Murderer Apprehended!"

I can't remember the last time I have read or heard someone say the word murderer. There is almost no disruption in this society. Besides the crimes the factionless commit.

"Do you know this guy?" the man next to me says, tapping the front cover picture with his index finger.

I look at his hand. Burns color his skin almost like they are taking over him. He holds the paper over his face,as if he wanted to crumple it and do away with it.

I draw my attention away from his hands and to the picture he's pointing to. It is a picture of a middle aged man, sprawling a beard on his face.

For some reason, I feel like I do. I can't exactly pinpoint how, but somehow the man seems familiar to me. The feeling of fear reappears in me. I can't say I know the man on the cover. Instinct holds the truth from crawling out of me. In Amity, we are taught to even lie to keep the peace.

"Well?" Anger finds it's way into the man's voice. "Do you?"

I swallow. I feel as though my heart is going to pop out of my chest any second. I have to lie, in order to keep the peace.

"No," I say as plainly as I can.

The man throws the paper and stands up. I see his face his rippled with scars, like his hands. He wears sunglasses and his mouth has a snarl to it.

He leans in close to and the stench of cigarettes grows. I feel sick to my stomach.

"You're lying," the man says. "You're lying!"

I don't know where the courage comes from, but I know the words find their way out of my mouth before I even think about them.

"I'm not lying." I say, a little too harshly.

Shock doesn't register on the mans face, instead, it registers on mine. I have never used such a tone on anyone.

"I can see it in your eyes, you brat, you're lying."

"I'm not lying." I keep my posotion steady like a rock, unwavering despite the trickles of fear that edge me.

"If you know him," the man says. "You could have saved me!" he bellows at me.

"Well I don't know him, so I can't save you." I say, surprising myself again. This is not right. Something is wrong.

What I see isn't a foreign sight to me. I'm in the school cafeteria. I look around; no one resides here but me. Two things are in front of me: a piece of cheese and a machete.

"Choose," a stern voice says. I look around again, no one is here.

I don't know which one to choose. I feel myself drawn to the machete, curious as to how it would feel in my hand, or how it would feel to swing it.

 _This is not right,_ I think again. I shouldn't be drawn to the machete, a weapon like that would disrupt peace. Peace is what I stand for, or what I feel like I should stand for. My mind tells me otherwise. Perhaps it

I tell myself to choose what I feel naturally drawn to, I choose the machete, despite my inner protests.

Just then, my ears pick up some noise next to me. Not too far away, but not too close, is a little girl. Looking at me awfully scared, judging by the way her eye flickers, around me, she's looking at me and the knife. Before I have time to speak or do anything. I hear a bark.

Fear flows through me again. I try to pinpoint where the noise is coming from and it's front of me and the girl. We form a triangle, the little girl to my right, the ferocious, growling dog in front of us to my left. Decisions run their way into my head. I don't know anything about dogs, or what makes them tick but I know enough to see that it's angry and will act. The little girl whimpers and tears flow from her eyes.

"Shh," I try to silence the girl, not knowing it that is a sign to the dog to attack.

I don't have many options. I could either use myself as a human shield for the girl or throw the machete at the dog. Neither of them sounds pleasant.

In an instant, almost too fast for me to notice, the dog charges. Not towards me, but towards the little girl.

"No!" I yell. I don't think, I just act.

I throw the machete and it connects with the dog's side.

My eyes open. At first, I don't know where I am. Then, memories flood into my brain and the events in my mind make sense. The man, the dog, the little girl, the knife.

It's almost like waking up from a bad dream, knowing that you're okay, knowing that none of anything you saw actually happened. Sometimes, it's a feeling of comfort. Other times, you wish you could back into the world you were dreaming about. I never want to go back and stay there.

The Abnegation women begins removing her wires and than mine. She looks at me, as if waiting for me to come back to reality. My palms feel sweaty. All of me feels on edge.

"I have your results," the woman says softly. "According to the test, you blocked out the aptitude for Erudite since you had very little information of the dog, you also blocked out Candor because you lied to the man on the bus. So that had only left three options. By not picking the cheese it blocked out Amity and by not wedging yourself between the girl and the dog you blocked out Abnegation." The woman said.

No, I'm not fit for Amity? That can't be. Is there something wrong with the test? There has to be. If Amity, Abnegation, Candor, and Erudite were all blocked out then that leaves only one faction.

"You have the aptitude for Dauntless."

Thanks for reading my fic! I'm currently looking for beta readers to sort this out, since I have a couple of chapters already written. Like I said, please leave any comments and reviews. Every little bit helps.


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